


iPhone

by Makeyourbodyacanvas



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Crush, Awkward Flirting, Bisexual Eren Yeager, Coffee Shops, Dom/sub Undertones, Dysfunctional Family, Eren Yeager Has Heterochromia Iridum, Eren Yeager Has a Manbun, Established Levi/Erwin Smith, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gender-Neutral Hange Zoë, Idiots in Love, Kink Discovery, Kink Exploration, Long-Haired Eren Yeager, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mikasa Ackerman & Levi Are Related, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Piercings, Praise Kink, Size Kink, Smut, Tattoos, Texting, Yakuza
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:34:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29133396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makeyourbodyacanvas/pseuds/Makeyourbodyacanvas
Summary: For Sage Ackerman, high school was a total hell hole. Her grades were decent, she had no friends, and every guy within a hundred mile radius was scared absolutely shitless of her older brother who had been looking after her ever since their uncle up and abandoned them one day. So that’s why she was moving halfway across the country to study ancient history. It was millions of light years away from all her struggles and she couldn’t wait for her fresh start.So when she swaps numbers after an awkward first meeting with Eren Yeager, she’s (pleasantly) surprised they stay in touch—via text—and soon become inseparable thanks to high-speed internet. She just hopes they won't be humiliating weird every time they see each other.
Relationships: Eren Yeager/Original Female Character(s), Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Ymir, Levi/Erwin Smith
Kudos: 2





	1. It's Been "One Of Those Days" For Like, Three Years Now

**Author's Note:**

> Is everyone alright after last night’s episode? Because I’m not :’) 
> 
> This story was created because I needed a universe where they were all alive, happy, and getting everything they deserved and then some. I don’t plan on this being serious, just a little comfort story.

“So, Sage, I’ve been wondering....”

Sage knew that whatever was going to come out of Hitch Dreyse’s mouth was bound to be stupid, and she wasn’t going to like it. Hitch leaned closer to her, narrowed eyes shimmering, her mouth pulled up in an obnoxious smile.

“Is your brother really gay?”

Hitch giggled at her own question, both girls glancing over to where Levi was playing nice as he made small talk with Hitch’s mom. 

Rage burned through Sage’s veins. 

According to her (unofficial) therapist, she had four possible solutions to diffuse the situation:

  * She could take a few moments to collect her thoughts before saying anything—and this allowed others involved in the situation to do the same thing.



  * She could give herself a short break during this stressful moment. A few minutes of quiet time might help her feel better prepared to handle what's ahead without getting irritated or angry.



  * Don’t hold a grudge. Forgiveness was a powerful tool. If she allowed anger and other negative feelings to crowd out positive feelings, she might find herself swallowed up by her own bitterness or sense of injustice. But if she could forgive someone who angered her, she might both learn from the situation and strengthen the relationship.



  * Use humor to lighten up the tension. Using humor to help her face what's making her angry and, possibly, any unrealistic expectations she might have for how things should go. She should avoid sarcasm, though—it can hurt feelings and make things worse.



Sage lounged back against the wall, sizing Hitch up from top to bottom. Would it really be so bad if she punched her in the face? And could anyone blame her? The Ackerman siblings were known for their fair share of fights. It was an unspoken rule that you were bound to get the shit kicked out of you if you even breathed wrong in their direction. But as Sage weighed her options, she remembered that she was so close to being as far away from Hitch Dreyse and the rest of the stupid town. Just one more week, she was so close.

“I’m talking to you,” said Hitch when her first attempt came up short with a reaction. She flipped her hair, which she could never grow past her shoulders, and sucked the top row of her teeth, drawing Sage’s attention to her mouth.

One punch wouldn’t hurt anyone—well, except Hitch.

“Hello? Is anyone home?”

Hitch waved her hand in front of Sage’s face.

One punch would be so therapeutic.

Fuck, who was Sage kidding? It was the silent fifth option. It always came down to option number five. At this point in her life there was no need to lie to herself. She might have only been just shy of five feet, but her left hook was anything but cute and her reaction time was something only seen in movies. She had Kenny to thank for that. 

Oh, well. It’s not like Levi would actually be upset with her if she laid Hitch flat on her ass in the middle of Target. She doubted he’d even be embarrassed. 

Just as Hitch opened her mouth, more than likely to say something else incredibly stupid, Sage was saved by a lone worker in a red shirt wheeling a cart full of inventory to be put out on display.

Time flies when you’re imagining beating the shit out of someone.

Sage pushed herself off the wall with a basket full of cleaning supplies resting in the crook of her elbow. It felt heavy with the unnessaccary amount of all purpose cleaners containing bleach and was tempted to spray it into Hitch’s face. She glanced up briefly over by the laptops where Mrs. Dreyse was unsuccessfully flirting with Levi. Sage blinked. She had had a smooth month since graduation, and she definitely hadn’t been thinking about Hitch Dreyse ruining her last week in town. Was she surprised, though? Definitely not. 

“What’s the problem? Did you forget how to speak English all of the sudden? Like, nǐ hǎo?”

At that moment, Sage was blinded by a five second surge of rage that tasted bitter, yet surprisingly satisfying. She wanted to reach out. She wanted to punch Hitch in the face. She wanted to see Hitch falling to the ground, wailing in pain, when her fist would have made contact. Punching someone was much like coffee—its bitterness would draw her in to take another hit, knowing she would be more awake than minutes before. She wanted to draw her fist back to deliver another blow, knowing well enough there’d be blood on her knuckles. Her own blood would hum in her veins as anger and determination took over, and Sage would resort to kicking Hitch solidly in the midsection, which would knock the breath out of her and cause her to instinctively curl into herself, trying to make herself small and feeble. And Sage knew when she would purposely aim for Hitch’s chin, that’s when all hell would break loose.

She further imagined bringing her boot down to Hitch’s face, snapping her nose in a grotesquerie. Just listening to Hitch opening her mouth to start screaming like the little bitch she was would have been music to Sage’s ears. 

But she didn’t do any of that. Not because she was the better person, but because she promised Erwin she’d  _ try _ . Whatever the fuck that meant. 

(And, to put on record, Sage never went looking for a fight. While she wasn’t a pacifist, there was nothing she hated more than racist, homophobic people. There was a breaking point for her patience no matter how short it was.)

“I’m Japanese, you stupid bitch,” Sage said calmly despite the snarl that she felt building inside her chest. There was a delicious moment where Hitch’s face washed blank with confusion, like her brain couldn't keep up fast enough to take in the words from her wide eyes. A small smile played on Sage’s lips. “Kon'nichiwa is hello in Japanese. If you’re going to be racist you should try to be less stupid, but that’s probably really, really hard for you.”

_ Some people need to be killed with kindness _ , Erwin once told her. 

Hitch’s mom laughed insufferably loud at something Levi said, unexpectedly placing a hand on his arm, and Sage instantly thought of two things at the same time: Levi despised being touched, and he wasn’t that funny. She had witnessed him cutting some random, drunk stranger who had touched his shoulder without warning once. 

“Moooom,” whined Hitch, wanting to get away from Sage as fast as possible. 

_ What was she? Five? _

Sage bet Hitch called her father daddy too, and that they were the type of family that kissed on the mouth. She shuddered at the thought. 

She followed behind Hitch as they made their way over to the adults.

“If you want, I can come by your house and you can take a look at the samples,” Mrs. Dreyse said. She was an interior designer and at least three inches taller than Levi even in her flats. “It wouldn’t be a problem. I can even give you a discount since we’ve known each other since the girls were little.”

She smiled over at Hitch and Sage, either oblivious to the tension between them or simply ignoring it. 

“Here’s my card,” she continued. Levi took the laminated piece of paper and put it in his pocket where it would soon be forgotten. “And if you want, Erwin could join us too.” She had a toothy grin on her face, failing at being seductive. 

Sage was  _ really _ at her breaking point.

“Levi.” She grabbed her brother by the wrist. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

* * *

  
It was no coincidence that brother and bother were one letter apart. Levi pulled out of the parking lot, his grin widening as he watched Sage reign in her temper. Everything about Hitch and her mother pissed Sage off. Levi was her brother. Her accomplice. Her co-conspirator. Her protector. He wouldn't hesitate to die for her, and she wouldn’t hesitate to die for him. So it was infuriating when people didn’t mind their own business and respect his personal choices. You’d think someone who has known the Ackermans for eight years would know that Levi was strictly gay—swinging absolutely no other way—but no, they think flapping their lash extensions was enough to turn him straight for the night. 

_ Puh-lease. _

In the car, Sage rearranged the seat belt so it didn’t feel like it was strangling her to death. Being the height and size of a fairy was bullshit.

Levi eased into the afternoon traffic as the silence thickened around them.

On the highway, the car hugged the black tarmac, loving and appreciating any wind as Levi picked up speed. Sage watched as the yellow strips below moved like a motion picture in fast forward, causing strain to her eyes after a while. Her stomach was a little upset—from restraining her urge to punch Hitch, and from Levi forcing her to hurry up to finish her iced coffee before she got in the car. Levi insisted that there would be no food or drinks opened in his car. It was his OCD. The idea of leaving a surface unclean for a moment gave him significant stress, fearing that if they did not keep things extremely clean, they would get sick or die. Mental disorder or not, it was a reasonable fear that they had been through. He had attempted many times to keep it at bay for her sake despite her protests, and Sage always reminded him that it was just the three of them—Levi, Sage, and Erwin. The only friends who came around were Hange, and Furlan and Isabel whenever they visited. It wasn’t like Sage actually had anyone she wanted to hang out with. 

Sage never had friends in her age group. She wasn’t concerned about her social life at school, and the closest person she had considered a friend at that hell hole, Ilse Langnar, had transferred to a different high school in the middle of junior year, leaving Sage with no one to interact with. She knew people looked at her as the quiet, loner girl with the troubled past, and she did nothing to dispel their notions of her. Sage never had any real friends at Wall Rose High School, not even acquaintances, and it didn’t bother her in the least.

The car continued steadily on the road. The humming of the vehicle started to annoy her head, a real pulse of pain making her squint. She closed her eyes and tried to get comfortable. It wasn’t the coziest place to rest, but considering how she felt, she would take whatever she could get. 

“Why do you do that?” Levi asked the question smoothly, the baritone of his voice reverberating through Sage’s head. He had that rich, silky tone. He spoke as if he controlled the world, his experiences seeping through. People were always surprised when they heard him speak for the first time, probably thinking his voice was better suited for a bigger guy. But it always reminded Sage of a stormy day. A nice one. 

“Do what?” Sage opened her eyes partially. The question had caught her off guard. Thinking would only make the annoying buzzing in her head grow louder and more painful. 

“Why do you let people like that girl bother you?” Levi was always cool as a cucumber on the outside. He had learned how to master his expressions a long time ago. “Their opinions don’t matter, you know.”

“What makes you think she bothers me?”

“It was obvious.”

“That I wanted to kick the shit out of her?”

“Yeah, and, watch your language. Shitty Eyebrows gets on my ass enough about that.”

“Well it’s true,” Sage grumbled. “But it’s hard, ok? She tired to make a snide comment about you, and then she made a racist comment. It’s a miracle I actually didn’t do anything. I don’t want to disappoint…”

“Disappoint? You? Who would’ve been disappointed with you?” Levi made a face. “That’s ridiculous. Sage, some people do need to have the shit kicked out of them, but I want better for you. I remember being your age and just being angry all the time, but it doesn’t have to be like that.”

The headache pulsed like it was agreeing with him. 

“How can I not feel like that? Because everyone pisses me off.”

Sage couldn’t remember a time when it wasn’t encouraged to beat the shit out of someone. Kenny—the man their mother had explicitly chosen to give custody to through her will (Levi and Sage still thought it was a lapse in judgement)—hadn’t been the best parental figure. He raised them as well as he could: teaching them knife skills, how to get along with people when it best suited the situation, and violent behavior. But Kenny had been born and raised to become the boss of the Akkāman-gumi, not a father. 

“Well, why do you want to resort to violence first?”

Sage’s mouth opened then shut. Confusion scattered her thoughts. It was clear as day by her expression.

No one had ever deliberately tried to get to the root of her temperament issues before as straightforward as her brother. She felt the pain move just right above her left eye, a telltale sign that she was getting a migraine, but she forced herself to actually think about the question. Sage was a well mannered person, she always had been, despite what her school transcripts might say. She wasn’t a confrontational person, but she found it easier to use her fists to get the message across than actually talking about the issue. Who didn’t understand what a punch in the face meant? That was just her way.

Kenny had constantly drilled it into them that self defense was important, whether it was from a physical or verbal assault. The neighborhood she grew up in was filled with sharks, sniffing out weakness like it was blood. And being a minority amongst a slew of white people who thought they were still better than you despite being from the same social class had forced the Ackerman siblings to resort to violence more than they had wanted to. Levi had always been running to their defense back then. It also didn’t help that Kenny had a loud personality and attracted enemies like a moth to a flame. 

For example: Eleven years ago, an acquaintance of Kenny, who always had a big mouth on him, had lost his tongue after bad mouthing Sage and her late mother. The man had been drunk from what Sage could recall, bumping into the trio in the late afternoon. He had called Kuchel a back alley whore, going even further that he had missed his chance to have his way with her. His sleazy eyes then shifted towards Sage; it was clear that he wanted her. And that was all it took for Kenny to attack. Sage hadn’t witnessed the man actually losing his tongue, Levi had hauled their asses back home before it got  _ really  _ ugly, but the man’s children had served as their main tormentors ever since that day. They were added to the ever growing list of people who they had to knock out on a daily basis.

Sage went back to resting her eyes. She didn’t have an answer for Levi. Maybe she never would, but maybe now that she was leaving she would have to learn how to navigate her feelings. Stopping herself from beating the shit out of Hitch was a start. Sage was exhausted. Of always being angry. Of worrying about disappointing Levi. She shifted her attention to the changing scenery outside the window, letting her mind roam free.

* * *

Later that day Sage’s godparent stopped by like they did every weekend. Not that Hange was legally her anything. The word functioned as a better alternative to honorary aunt and/or uncle, which she rarely used anyway because it was simply easier to call them Hange. Especially since Hange hated labels. At least when it came to their gender. Which they always ranted was a social construct, and none of them ever disagreed. Most of the time Sage referred to people as they/them when she didn’t know their pronouns. 

Hange’s life partner, Moblit Berner, joined them. When Hange first introduced Moblit to their odd, mismatched family, Sage thought he was defective or else messing with Hange. And when it seemed like neither explanation was the case, her suspicion only grew. To most people, Hange appeared to be an energetic, freethinking researcher with a very unique outlook on people and life in general. Hange was a genius, and it wasn’t beneath them to use this genius anyway they could, being able to easily manipulate people to do what Hange wanted. However, Hange's energetic attitude was only half of their personality, alongside a darker attitude normally kept under their usual self. So it had confused Sage as to why Moblit, who came across as an intelligent and responsible person, was  _ willing  _ to put up with Hange. Especially since they often left him in a state of near-panic. He got easily tired of Hange's bold gestures, sometimes reprimanding them for doing hazardous actions. Even so, he remained at their side constantly, showing that he was a loyal person, regardless of the stress involved with being in love with them. Overzealous and eccentric Hange might be, Moblit would always put their safety over his. That was something Sage could respect, and ultimately be thankful for. 

“So, do you like it?”

Sage desperately wished she hadn’t.

Hange was definitely the Vodka Aunt. Not the Wine Aunt, but the one who would drink straight vodka right out of the bottle. They were already the loud, usually inebriated, and funnest member of the family. They took Sage under their slightly uncoordinated wings from the moment they had met each other. Instead of practical gifts, Hange always went out of their way to get something insanely fun (and normally boarding the line of possibly being mildly inappropriate). 

This was why Hange was no longer allowed to do any kind of gift shopping by themselves. Being in charge of their annual Secret Santa party back in ‘18 had gotten their rights revoked—which was agreed upon unanimously. So Sage was confused about how an all black kitten was suddenly thrust into her squabbling arms.

Hange’s smile was unwavering.

Sage blinked first. 

“Do you have a death wish or something?” The kitten was smaller than the palm of Sage’s hand, a miniature cartwheel of fur. It felt softer than any department store toy. It was yowling like a baby calling for mother, but she couldn’t be close. It couldn’t have been more than a couple of weeks old either, too young to be in the care of an eighteen year old like Sage.

Sage wondered if Hange had a will written up. Because Levi just might kill them. He wasn’t the fondest of animals in general, but he held a different sort of contempt for the ones who shed and would shit inside the house. 

“Well?” Hange would not be deterred. “Do you like it?”

Eyes the colour of the Atlantic Ocean, Sage returned the "meows" and the kitten replied every time. 

“Shortcake,” they whined. 

Behind “short stacks”, Sage despised “shortcake” since strawberry shortcake was one of her favorite desserts. It was bad enough that Hange used to call her Strawberry Shortcake after finding a picture of her dressed up as the character for Halloween as a toddler. 

Hange sat on a chair on the other side of the kitchen table and widely gestured to the kitten. Their glasses slid down the bridge of their nose. 

God, they were a handful.

The kitten dug their claws into the soft material of Sage’s shirt. She patted the kitten, scratching gently, making it purr. 

“I figured you would need a little friend,” Hange explained, bouncing in their seat. “Your social skills aren’t the best, and we both know you hate people.” They paused to lean in closer, and Sage couldn’t believe they were still talking. “It’s probably better that you start off small.”

_ Wow. _

Sage brought the kitten closer to her face, staring into those blue eyes that she secretly hoped would bring Levi to his knees. When Sage looked close enough she could see the faint brighter stripes in irises, which reminded her of spring grass. She already adored the cute, little thing. 

Possible ways to convince Levi to let her keep the kitten (since she couldn’t bring it to live with her in the dorm room):

  * Get on her hands and knees, and beg. Crying might also work in her favor since Levi had never been good at consoling people when they were overly emotional.



  * Ask Isabel and Furlan to take care of it during the weekday since she would be only ten minutes away from them.



  * Let Hange take all the blame. 



“Cute,” Sage sighed. “I do like it.” Then she added, “You’ll be explaining this to Levi.”

“What will Shitty Glasses be explaining to me?”

The laugh Sage let out was sincere as her brother took in the scene in front of him. His eyes fluttered from Sage, to the kitten now resting peacefully in her lap, to a grinning Hange who was looking for a quick escape. Moblit stayed put in his seat, knowing this was one fight he wasn’t willing to put his life on the line for. Erwin calmly made his way over to Sage and the kitten, crouching down to get a better look at it. It subconsciously burrowed itself closer to Erwin’s warmth.

_ Cute! _

It was safe to say the kitten was staying—Erwin had reassured her. That didn’t mean they had tried to stop Levi from strangling Hange with a napkin. It was a common occurrence. Each screech pulled from Hange made the kitten meow after the commotion had woken it up. The three other occupants cooed over how adorable it was. Sage was sure Levi would come to at least like the kitten eventually, he had always preferred cats over dogs since they could basically take care of themselves and had some form of common sense for an animal. Come to think of it, Levi did remind her of a cat (a moody one at that). Both liked their personal space. And were prissy. And sassy, too. 

After having their hand twisted behind their back, and swearing to buy all the necessities for the kitten, Hange was forgiven. At least for the moment. The “statute of limitations” of Levi’s grudges wasn’t something people took lightly. He was downright vindictive when he wanted to be. Even so, Sage wouldn’t have traded any of them for the world.  



	2. Toss Your Hair In A Bun, Drink Some Coffee, And Handle It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren’s POV!

Eren loved crowds. He loved the way people walked, roughly in one direction, weaving a little, chatting as they went. He watched them, some heads down and lost in thought and wondered what their private worlds were like—each of them viewing this same place, this same day, from a unique perspective. Some of them noticed the sun on the horizon, others the cloudy remains of yesterday's rainstorm. Either way their footfalls soothed him better than a flowing river. He hadn’t been raised in the city, but it felt like he had always been there. 

Today’s commute was accompanied by a soft drizzle of rain—every person with their head down and moving at maximum speed. Those with umbrellas took wider berths of one another, the rest took care to duck when the spokes came their way. The sound of feet on wet paving stones was almost lost against the splashing of the traffic, only the click of high heels still clear. The usual smell of the fumes was dampened by the hazy drops and every face was on the blank-stressed spectrum—at 4:30 am it was always the same.

Paradise Coffee House, where Eren was manager at, came into view as he rounded a familiar corner. He could see the cheerful and brilliant lighting of the shop as he walked across the street. There were tables outside the shop each with a brown vintage style umbrella. Just like the owner intended, they sold some of the finest coffee in the city; dare he say that it even rivaled some of the more well known, multinational chains of coffeehouses. It also had a book corner in the left hand side of the shop where people could buy books. It was an ideal place for students, which was why it was such a short commute from the university. 

He jammed his key into the lock, pushing the transparent doors to walk through them, a blanket of warm air hit him and the rich aroma of coffee which was delectable.

It was rare when Pixis actually came in earlier than Eren. He was usually inside the shop and preparing for the day around 3:30am, so to come an hour later just felt weird. It was nice to be greeted with freshly brewed coffee, though. 

He could always use a pick-me-up. 

The aged wooden floor creaked beneath his feet as he made his way to the coffee bar at the end of the shop made of reclaimed wood. He made himself comfortable behind the bar where his cup of Americano waited for him. When he was about to take the first sip of his cup of coffee, the illuminating screen of his iPhone caught his attention as a notification popped up. It was a text message from his mother. He normally wouldn’t have ignored his mother trying to get in contact with him, but he had a good idea of what she wanted to talk about. And Eren definitely didn’t want to talk about anything pertaining to Grisha Yeager. 

_ No thank you.  _

Eren turned his focus to the look of the coffee cup instead. It had a very rich vintage look itself. The cup was in white and the details were in bronze. The fresh hot coffee warmed his palms as he took the first sip. The invigorating smoky taste was heavenly. 

At least he could always rely on coffee. Sweet, delicious, fountain of youth coffee. He heard Pixis rattling around in the kitchen.

In just a few minutes, the aroma of freshly ground beans mingled with the smell of freshly made baked goods. 

“Morning, Eren. Special on muffins today?” Dot Pixis, Eren’s boss, was a bald man with a structured build. He had a distinguished mustache, with light skin and notable wrinkles under his eyes. Pixis was an eccentric man. He was the first person to believe in Eren, and gave him solid footing when he had decided to take time off from university. He loved trying the baked goods Eren made daily. With a cup of coffee spiked with something that definitely wasn’t cream, Pixis had his fill of every dessert being displayed that day at least a thousand times. He always asked Eren if he could take one before he shoved it in his mouth, like he didn’t know what it would taste like. He never asked when he came back for seconds, and thirds, and fourths…

Between the sweets and alcohol, it was a miracle the man was still functioning.

Eren didn’t mind, though. Pixis genuinely enjoyed Eren’s food. Every single creation. He had drunkenly cried about it once. He even was kind enough to pay Eren four dollars over minimum wage, and Eren would gladly make the man anything he wanted without a complaint. He’d even clean the bathroom, but he would never tell Pixis that. 

“What’s that?” Pixis picked up a muffin from the first batch that came from the oven. He scooped up the dripping glaze with his finger. “Salted Caramel?”

Baking and cooking was Eren’s meditation and a way to show others how much he cared. They would bake every afternoon after school, him and his mother and Mikasa. It seemed like such magic at first, taking that flour and butter and eggs and sugar and making something they could eat. Becoming a baker was the last thing on his mind, it was more something he fell into. Growing up in the home he did, surrounded by his mother who loved to cook, he guessed the writing was on the wall. He just never saw it. So when he stumbled into Paradise Coffee House, in the days when it was just coming alive, it really was an accident of sorts. Baking was just a thing he knew how to do.

In the first few months of Eren working at the coffee shop the line for his cakes and pastries were long no matter what the weather was. That’s when Pixis offered him free reign of the kitchen, him, a kid without a dime to his name. He just laughed and said he just owned the place, but Eren knew how to put the magic in it. After baking his boss a pineapple upside down cake for his husband’s birthday (his favorite fruit with a twist) with a 99¢ card from the Dollar Tree addressed to Mr. Darius Zackly, they both decided that Eren should go to culinary school instead. They gave him pamphlets so he could think about it, and when he had informed the couple of what he had decided to do, they had bought him a stack of  _ new hardcover cookbooks _ . Eren was so touched by the gesture that he had been red in the face for a week. At the couple’s urging, Eren fastened himself with his food handlers permit and now created the weekly menu. 

He was in the shop by 3:30 am while Jean, his second in command, his friend, came in at 7:00 to man the register and act as one of the best damned baristas on their side of town.

“You got your blueberry almond coffee cake,” Eren said to Pixis, pointing to each muffin. “And maple bacon corn, peanut butter banana chocolate chip, and French toast muffins.” Eren loved thinking outside the box and being creative. He wanted to showcase items that other coffee shops didn’t even think about creating. 

“Here.” Eren set aside one of each.

“Thanks. I haven’t eaten yet.” Pixis swallowed a muffin whole. “Köstlich, Eren!” He said with his mouth full. Pixis was freshening up on his German since he and his husband were planning to take a trip to Rothenburg ob der Tauber for their upcoming anniversary. Eren, who was fluent in German and two other languages, agreed to help him. 

Pixis eyed him up and down. “You’ve been sleeping alright, Eren?” Pixis was one of the few people who actually paid attention to his moods.

Ever since he had been a child, Eren had a marked lack of self-restraint that often led him into trouble, causing his friends and family to worry about him. 

In the years since he started therapy, Eren had improved greatly with handling his anger issues. That’s where baking and cooking came in handy. Not only did it serve as a career for him, it helped calm him down when he needed it most. And, as Pixis pointed out, his lack of sleep also affected his moods in a negative way, so he was always appreciative to do something he loved. 

So, with his hair tied back into a bun, Eren threw himself into his work. People always complimented him on two things. One was his hair. He was blessed with his mom’s genetics in that department. Dark and grown down to shoulder length, his ex-boyfriend—who finally got the hint after threatening to file for a restraining order—had always been kind of jealous of Eren’s hair.

The main thing people always complimented him about, which rightfully couldn’t be helped, was the one thing that made him stand out in the crowd. His facial features strongly resembled his mother's; he had a reasonably long, rounded face and sizable, expressive eyes. Eyes that were two different colors because of heterochromia, a variation in coloration. One eye was turquoise in coloring—that bright color, bold and beautiful, just like his mother’s. The other eye was a light olive-brown to dark yellow, or a moderate, strong to vivid yellow. He always felt silly calling it gold. His mom said his eyes were lights that could shine in any night. Eren was just glad the golden shade hadn’t come out as cold and still as a corpse like his dad’s.

While Eren had missed out on some hours of sleep in the past week after an argument with his parents, it just gave him time to come up with more menu ideas for the month. Pastries were Eren’s specialty. In the cases and cake stands were freshly baked sweets, ranging from apple cinnamon slab pies, raspberry turnovers and raspberry buttercream Mille Feuilles, about five different flavors of coffee cake (with more in the making), and ten different donut recipes out of thirty. He was determined to have the best of the best displayed and consumed at Paradise. Plus, it was nice when the regular group grandmas who came in for their morning coffee and breakfast gave him a kiss on the cheek for another job well done. It was even amusing when they tried setting him up with their grandchildren. Today he whipped together a dozen of hand pies, the muffins, and some donuts—and he was sure that meant one of the grandmothers would slip him their grandchild’s number since they absolutely loved his pies.

“Yeah, Pixis. Just lost track of time last night.” Eren took the completely cool donuts from the pan and dipped the tops into the glaze and turned them over so the glaze ran down the sides. He then set them aside for the glaze to set. 

Pixis did one more look over. “Make sure to get some sleep tonight,” he said as he left. He shot Eren one more look for extra measures. Then he was gone. 

Eren dipped the next batch of donuts into the glaze. He knew he had rough hands—like sandpaper or perhaps stone, rough and unfinished. His arms—which were straining against the shirt fabric at the forearms, biceps and chest—were long, muscular, tanned and decorated in a blanket of tattoos. Which no one really would have guessed since they were often unseen due to his long sleeves. Eren even had piercings. So far it was only in both his ears with studs and dangled hoops all in black. He had been debating on whether or not he should get a tongue piercing.

He wiped the vanilla bean pastry cream on his apron and continued working on the next set of donuts, crème brulee. He was pleased with how everything turned out. 

Eren knew that when people looked at him they didn’t think “baker” instantly, but he had never been someone who concerned himself with the opinions of others if it made him happy. And he was lucky to have the group of friends that he surrounded himself with—all different, but able to respect one another and their interests.

Jean came in and immediately went to the baked lemon blueberry donuts. Eren already had an extra one made and resting on the cooling rack.

“When the hell did you come up with these?” Jean asked. “These are gonna sell out in no time.”

“These aren’t on the menu. I made them special for someone,” Eren explained. He moved them away from Jean’s reach. 

“Who’s the lucky person, Eren? You’ll have them feeding out of the palm of your hands in no time, literally.”

Eren laughed.

Jean studied him.

“Dude. No.” Jean’s eyes widened. “Please tell me these aren’t for Crazy-Stalker Guy…please tell me you haven’t been talking to him. You can’t keep doing this to yourself,” Jean said, arms crossed and scowling. “I get it, man. Breakups are hard—and he wasn’t bad looking—but he’s not a stable person, and you deserve better than him.”

Eren decidedly ignored the mention of his shitty love life. 

“I haven’t had any contact with him,” Eren said, dispelling Jean’s fear.

When the tension left in Jean’s shoulders, when the relief began, he carried on as normal, only somewhat happier than before. “Can I have these?” He asked when he caught a glance at the rack that held the donuts that didn’t come out exactly as Eren had wanted them to. 

Eren nodded, even though Jean had devoured the misshapen treat in a single bite. “So good,” he hummed, licking his fingers to get off the excess glaze. “He doesn’t deserve your food anyway.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am in no connection with Attack on Titan (進撃の巨人 Shingeki no Kyojin) the manga, or the animated series adapted from the manga of the same title by Hajime Isayama.
> 
> Leave a review to let me know what you think of it so far!

**Author's Note:**

> I am in no connection with Attack on Titan (進撃の巨人 Shingeki no Kyojin) the manga, or the animated series adopted from the manga of the same title by Hajime Isayama.
> 
> Leave a review and/or kudos to let me know what you thought!


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